Fear For Me: A Novel of the Bayou Butcher (For Me #2)(15)
Author: Cynthia Eden

Anthony glanced over at Lauren. Her gaze wasn’t on him. It was on the judge, and Lauren looked damn suspicious as she studied Hamilton. Fair enough. He also knew the judge was holding back on him. With a killer hunting, no one needed to hold back.

Time to clear the air.

Anthony closed in on Lauren and Hamilton. “Why did you want to see her?” he demanded.

Hamilton hunched his shoulders. He didn’t meet Anthony’s stare. “There are a number of cases that her office is working. I just needed to talk about—”

“When you lie,” Anthony said quietly, “your gaze cuts to the floor and you rub your chin.”

Most folks had tells like that. Only they didn’t realize what they were doing. Anthony realized. It was his job to notice.

The judge licked his lips and his gaze slowly rose to meet Anthony’s. “It’s nothing. Really.” His hand fell away from his chin.

“Nothing wouldn’t make you call me,” Lauren said, voice soft. “On the phone, you said it was urgent. That we had to meet.”

Hamilton glanced over at the cops. His stare seemed to linger a moment on Detective Voyt. Then he focused back on Anthony. Hamilton edged closer and, voice even softer than Lauren’s, he said, “About two weeks ago, I got a letter from one of the Walker jurors.”

Lauren inhaled sharply.

“It was from the juror foreman, Steve Lynch. He said he’d made a mistake. That he wanted to talk.” The judge shook his head. “I didn’t respond to him, haven’t—but then I got to thinking about Walker breaking out so soon after the note was sent. I wondered…”

“You wondered if Walker had gotten a letter from Steve Lynch?” Lauren asked. “Something that might have pushed him into breaking out?”

A grim nod. “A letter, or maybe even some help.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “The kind of help that can get you a ticket out of prison if someone feels like they owe you.” He rocked forward onto the balls of his feet. “It might sound crazy, but I’ve seen plenty of crazy during my years on the bench. If a juror starts feeling guilty, starts feeling like he sent the wrong man to prison…hell, a guy like that will do just about anything to atone.”

Lauren was silent. A little too silent.

Anthony had to ask, “Did this Lynch guy contact you, too?”

“No.” Hesitation. Doubt? “At least, I don’t think he did. My assistant opens my mail, and she would have told me if a note like that had come through the office.”

Maybe.

Maybe not.

He raised his hand. “Voyt.”

The detective marched over.

“Judge Hamilton has some intel that he needs to give you.” Anthony had his own job to do. He caught Lauren’s hand. “Come with me.”

Her eyes widened. “Where are we going?”

“You wanted to be in on the hunt, well, here’s your chance.” After this second attack, no way did he want her out of his sight.

The job is to catch the killer. Fugitive apprehension. He knew exactly what he was supposed to do.

But leaving her behind…hell, no, that didn’t seem like an option. When he’d gone back to the clearing near the cabin and she’d been gone, his heart had damn near stopped.

It felt like he’d been coming closer and closer to death on his last few cases. Down in New Orleans, a serial killer had even managed to make him think that he was facing death. In what he’d thought were the last few minutes of his life, Anthony had closed his eyes and seen—

Her.

A man’s priorities could sure change quickly when he thought death was taking him.

But he’d survived that prick Valentine’s attack. And the witness he’d been protecting for so long, the woman who’d had her life nearly destroyed by the Valentine Killer?

I walked her down the aisle.

The monsters didn’t always win in this world. Sometimes, good did kick the hell out evil.

Sometimes.

His hold tightened on Lauren’s arm. “Come with me.” Apprehending Walker was his mission, but leaving her behind? Not happening.

“I can handle Lauren’s protection for the night,” Voyt offered as he stepped closer to them. He gave a little nod toward her. “Come on, Lauren, I’ll take you home.”

“I can’t go back home.” Her words broke a bit but she rallied quickly. “It’s not clear yet. And with Karen’s blood…with her dying in my bedroom…” Her breath rushed out. “I’m not going there.”

Hell, no, she wasn’t. The detective was a dumbass to even suggest she return that night.

A muscle flexed in Voyt’s jaw. “You can stay with me.”

Anthony’s whole body tightened. Not happening, Voyt. Not. Happening.

“You know I have the guest room,” Voyt added as he took another step toward her. The guy needed to learn how to respect personal space. Staring into her eyes, Voyt said, “Stay at my place tonight.”

She f**king wasn’t.

Anthony’s gaze slid between them. He didn’t like the look he saw in Voyt’s eyes. Not one bit. The detective needed to back off and back up.

Since the guy wasn’t moving, Anthony stepped between them. “She’s coming with me,” Anthony said, his words snapping out with a fierce force.

Voyt blinked. Even Hamilton edged back.

“She is?” Voyt sounded confused.

What was so confusing?

Anthony gritted out, “I need her to give me access to Walker’s friends and family.” Those still in the area. Most had fled, hoping to shed the image of being the killer’s kin. For those still there, Lauren knew them. She’d been the one to interview them years before. If they were going to talk, it would be to her. “I need her,” he said again as he locked stares with the detective. He wanted to make sure Voyt got the message—what he was saying and what he wasn’t.

But Voyt was proving to be oblivious. “Lauren needs a place to crash.” The guy wasn’t backing down. He did step to the side, though, just so he could look around Anthony and tell Lauren, “When you’re done helping the marshal, come to me, Lauren.”

Anthony’s back teeth were about to grind down to dust. She won’t be coming to you. Whatever was going on between Lauren and this dick detective, it would be ending.

“I’ll keep her safe,” Anthony growled, and then he was turning away from the cop and pulling Lauren with him. They rushed through the nearly deserted courthouse and burst outside into the thick, hot night air.